HAMARTIA (rewriting)
by ravendarkholme23
Summary: "Light is easy to love. Show me your darkness." In which, an Angel of Iego worships the goddess of the Light Side of the Force, despite feeling the pull of the Dark Side. In which, Kaleetha has unknowingly been the light in Anakin's world longer than any other and may just be his saving grace. {Star Wars: Episode 2 - Attack of the Clones} {Anakin Skywalker / OC}
1. PART ONE

_**PART ONE | BEFORE THE FALL**_

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 **DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything you recognise, blah blah blah, and the like.**

 **I'm rewriting this story as I didn't like how the original was going, please let me know what you think!**

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 **HARMARTIA**

(NOUN) A FATAL FLAW LEADING TO THE DOWNFALL OF A TRAGIC HERO OR HEROINE

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 ** _GEMMA ARTERTON_** _AS **KALEETHA**_ **| _"_** _SHE WASN'T LOOKING FOR A KNIGHT, SHE WAS LOOKING FOR A SWORD **"**_ **| _THE FIGHTER_**

 ** _CLAUDIA BLACK_** _AS **TRINIGAN**_ **| _"_** _ABOVE ALL, BE THE HEROINE OF YOUR LIFE, NOT THE VICTIM **"**_ **| _THE MISGUIDED_**

**_TILDA SWINTON_** _AS **ARMELLE**_ **| _"_** _STAY STRONG. MAKE THEM WONDER HOW YOU'RE STILL SMILING **"**_ **| _THE TEACHER_**

 ** _KIERNAN SHIPKA_** _AS **WEYLYN**_ **| _"_** _LITTLE GIRLS WITH DREAMS BECOME WOMEN WITH VISION **"**_ **| _THE BELIEVER_**

 ** _YAYA DACOSTA_** _AS **NESRIN**_ **| _"_** _YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE BUT IF YOU DO IT RIGHT, ONCE IS ENOUGH **"**_ **| _THE SUPREME_**

 ** _ROBERT SHEEHAN_** _AS **PALO**_ **| _"_** _VISION IS THE ART OF SEEING WHAT IS INVISIBLE TO OTHERS **"**_ **| _THE HOPEFUL_**

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 ** _"_** _LIFE IS PAIN, MY LOVE, AND IT'S A GREAT SHAME THAT A WOMAN WHO STRADDLES THE LINE BETWEEN VILLAIN AND HERO HAD TO TELL YOU THAT. ESPECIALLY BECAUSE YOU BELONG TO THE LIGHT THAT I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO ENTER_ _ **"**_

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 ** _"_** _THERE IS UNREST IN THE GALACTIC SENATE._

 _SEVERAL THOUSAND SOLAR SYSTEMS HAVE DECLARED THEIR INTENTIONS TO LEAVE THE REPUBLIC._

 _THIS_ _ **SEPARATIST MOVEMENT**_ _, UNDER THE LEADERSHIP OF THE MYSTERIOUS COUNT DOOKU, HAS MADE IT DIFFICULT FOR THE LIMITED NUMBER OF JEDI KNIGHTS TO MAINTAIN PEACE AND ORDER IN THE GALAXY._

 _SENATOR AMIDALA, THE FORMER QUEEN OF NABOO, IS RETURNING TO THE GALACTIC SENATE TO VOTE ON THE CRITICAL ISSUE OF CREATING AN_ _ **ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC**_ _TO ASSIST THE OVERWHELMED JEDI._

 _KALEETHA, A YOUNG_ _ **ANGEL OF IEGO**_ _, HAS FELT DISTURBANCES IN THE FORCE BUT REMAINS AS HIDDEN AWAY AS SHE POSSIBLY CAN IN THE OUTER RIM OF THE GALAXY. THE RACE OF THE ANGELS HAS BEEN DEPLETED TO A FEW DOZEN HALF-BLOODS AND KALEETHA IS DESPERATE TO PROTECT THE ONES THAT REMAIN. HOWEVER, KALEETHA QUESTIONS HER DEDICATION TO THE LIGHT SIDE AS SHE BEGINS TO FEEL AN INDESCRIBABLE PULL TOWARDS THE DARK SIDE OF THE FORCE…_ _ **"**_

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 **UNEDITED**

 **Yikes, am I bad at updating any of my stories...but I'm rewriting my brief start of** ** _Hamartia_** **so I hope you enjoy it. I just felt like the original was a sort of overused plot, where Anakin was in love with the OC instead of** **Padmé and it goes from there, almost identical to the movie. I wanted to try something new (and it might blow up spectacularly in my face).**

 **~ Raven**


	2. ONE

**ONE | SOOTHSAYER**

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 **DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything you recognise.**

 **So, the rewrite of the first chapter turned out to be a** ** _bit_** **darker than I was aiming for...but I kind of like how it turned out.**

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THE DARK SIDE'S claiming of Anakin Skywalker and, thus, the creation of Darth Vader, had always hinged on the love of a woman. Perhaps his love for the wrong woman was what resulted in his hideous fall from grace, his collapse into self-destruction. ( _Perhaps it was the weight of his duties and the secret wife he had, or even before that and the death of his mother, Shmi_.) His hamartia was his own pride, pride of what he possessed and could possess, and the Disciples believed that Anakin's beloved Padmé Amidala would prove only to be his undoing. So, when a vision of such a future made itself known to Armelle, the Supreme of the Angels of Iego, she took it upon herself to change the future, a most dangerous feat that involved letting the darkness into herself to save the light. But Armelle firmly stood by her assessment that Anakin Skywalker needed someone as stubborn-headed as himself but filled with humility; capable of evil, just as he was, but powerful enough to do what was right; personally connected to the Force but unhindered by the laws governing the Jedi.

But, just as there was a _before_ to Armelle's horrific fate, there was a before to Darth Vader. Anakin Skywalker was just a little boy living on the desert, slave-ridden planet of Tatooine, bearing a weight far too heavy for him to carry. And before even that, was just a little girl shouldering a heavier burden as the Light and Dark hinged on her ability to protect Anakin Skywalker from himself.

The protection of the Chosen One began long before Anakin Skywalker was born, even before his immaculate conception. In desperation after being notified of a particularly disturbing vision that involved the murder of the Chosen One before he or she even discovered themselves, the Jedi turned to the Winged One's Disciples—or simply known as the Angels of Iego—for guidance. The winged sentient beings of Millius Prime worshipped the Winged One, the goddess of the light side of the Force, very unlike their simply anthropoid cousins, the Diathim, and they possessed a great amount of power. The Angels were all beautiful women, with curling green locks of hair, much like their patron's, but their most appealing quality was that they were prophetesses, capable of seeing through and, to a limited extent, manipulating the Force. Many of their visions spoke similarly about the Chosen One's demise—dead by the hand of a Sith Lord, which had been believed to be extinct—but the vision of the prophetess' leader, the current Supreme known by the name Armelle, spoke of a more horrifying fate that would befall the Chosen One. Death would be a mercy compared to the punishments and havoc the Chosen One would inflict as a Sith Lord themselves. _A guardian_ , the Jedi requested without thinking of the consequences, _one to keep the Chosen One safe when it is time_.

Time was a fickle thing, however, and even if a guardian _was_ found, there was no guarantee that they would be present at the time to pull the Chosen One back from the precipice they teetered on the edge of.

But a guardian was what the Jedi got.

Millius Prime, though archaic in some aspects, was extremely advanced when it came to genetics. They had been creating children—the future generations of Angels—within pods for centuries as all Angels were female and very few Angels made it off the planet, let alone had interspecies relations with any other creature to produce children. It was also no secret that the Angels valued purity, holding it in high esteem—when it came down to it, they much preferred genetically engineering their next generation that carrying a child for nine months that, due to impure blood, may not possess the same connection to the Force as their mother. The Angels of Iego were a dying breed as it was and their hair alone was highly sought after, some lower beings believing that a single lock could make a person immortal. A ridiculous notion but others had killed for less and immortality _was_ an attractive proposition. Armelle had been on the receiving end of that once before—she had been young and naïve and she had been one of the lucky ones, her attacker had shaved off her hair to test the theories before he had attempted to lay a hand on her and, within that time, she had escaped.

Armelle stood in front of the incubator, arms crossed loosely in front of her chest. The infant was caramel skinned and already had a tuft of emerald green hair on her tiny head. And she was _perfect_. The baby was still curled up, still much too young to be out of the incubator ( _and in Armelle's arms_ ). Her wife, Trinigan, had yet to remove from her duty on the Wall, the outside borders of the temple that housed the Angels, segregating the prophetesses from the less than amicable Diathim.

But Trinigan would be home soon and soon the baby— _Kaleetha_ , Armelle had already decided—would be with them too.

Kaleetha was a strong name, one that would serve her well in the future, and the woman already knew that her child was going to be one of the best. Armelle would raise her to be the best. The angelic woman—incredibly tall and willowy—ran a hand through her short hair, the mint strands sticking up in haphazard spikes but despite her ragged appearance, there was a peace that seemed to have seeped into her very bones at the sight of the infant in the pod. The baby was encased within a solution that emulated the womb that allowed her to move, lying comfortably; Armelle's heart warmed at the sight of the little girl's arm stretching, tiny fingers separating as the infant turned and regained her curled position. The Angels of Iego always prioritized emotions and feeling was what kept many of them sane, Armelle was _proud_ , so very proud of her daughter and she hadn't even _done_ anything yet. And she knew Trinigan, though considerably the colder of the two, would be too. Reaching forward, Armelle ran her thin fingers over the outer rim of the incubator, wishing that she could reach through the containment field and place her hand against the small swatch of emerald hair on Kaleetha's head. But patience was a virtue and Armelle would rather wait years to touch her daughter than potentially infect her with a virus she collected off-world that Kaleetha's vulnerable immune system wouldn't be able to fight off.

"You look like a proud mother hen," a raspy voice murmured from behind Armelle but the mint-haired woman made no effort to turn, already knowing who it was. "It's a good look on you, Armelle."

The woman's thin lips turned up at the corners, "It will look good on you too, Trinigan."

Trinigan wasn't so sure. The planet of Iego was separated into three categories—the Diathim, the soldiers and the academics—and while the mint-haired woman was an academic, her wife was a solider. Trinigan, in comparison to Armelle, was dark; her hair was dark a shade of green that it appeared almost black, a clear contrast to her wife's, and Armelle's eyes were pale like sapphires, Trinigan's such a dark brown that they bordered on black. They contrasted in personality too, like sugar and spice. Armelle was gentle and kind, whereas Trinigan found herself often apathetic, cold in a way that some found unsettling. But it didn't mean Trinigan didn't care. No, she probably cared _too_ much, too fiercely for those she loved.

"I'll love her," Trinigan promised because she knew that she could only promise that. She made the same promise to Armelle on the day of their union too. It was a promise she could keep, even if she couldn't promise to be welcoming and smiling every moment of her life. "And I'll protect her. Like I love you, like I protect you."

The mint-haired woman smiled faintly as their eyes locked on the baby, hands laced together. "That's all I can ask for."

And so life continued like that for many years; Trinigan would offer all the love she was capable of generating when she was home from the Wall and Armelle would split her time between the Temple and caring for Kaleetha. Kaleetha was entered into training far earlier than her fellow Angels, found to be extremely strong in the Force. By the age of six, four of her visions had come to pass and none of them had been particularly happy, seeming to prove to the Angels within the Temple that darkness loomed on Kaleetha's future. She had been made from love, made _for_ love, but she had been labelled a failed experiment far earlier than she had realized; the Angels watched her constantly, as if they were worried that she would one day snap and kill everyone she had ever met. Trinigan had scoffed at that— _ridiculous_ , _Kaleetha wouldn't hurt a fly_ , Trinigan had sneered, especially angered when her pale-haired counterpart had expressed her own fears at their daughter's strength.

And, perhaps, Armelle had been right to worry but not about Kaleetha. It was Armelle who fell to the darkness well before Kaleetha had even managed to glimpse it.

By the time Kaleetha was eleven, life at home had severely declined. Armelle was falling into insanity, inch by excruciating inch as visions of pure torment needled their way into her skull and blurred her eyes. It started little by little, flinching at noises only she could hear, sleepwalking onto the balcony overlooking the markets of Iego. Then it became worse, especially when Trinigan was on the Wall, when Kaleetha would cop the brunt of Armelle's anger, reduced to hiding beneath her bed. But Kaleetha could never blame her mama, knowing _exactly_ what was swirling in the older woman's head; the emerald-haired girl felt the pull of the darkness far more than the measly tug of the light, watching her mama be swallowed whole by her own doubts and visions of her wife and daughter dying in her arms. The darkness was vicious in that way, the cold caress of a shadow drawing death closer and Armelle had fallen into a trap many Angels before her had: fear. The Jedi had been right that fear was the path to the Dark Side and after Armelle's veil of fear began to recede, Kaleetha discovered her intellectual mama to be angry. Anger quickly led to hate—a hatred for being forced to stay home to look after Kaleetha, hatred that her wife was never around, hatred that Kaleetha had achieved a great deal more than she had within little more than a decade—and with a great deal of suffering, Armelle succumbed to the Dark Side. It was much like how poets spoke about falling asleep and falling in love: _slowly and then all at once_. At first, Trinigan didn't notice—thinking her wife was just having trouble handling the pressure of the prophecy of the Chosen One; she was a perfectionist, after all—and Kaleetha's sense of loyalty kept her from saying a word. ( _When she got older, Kaleetha would look back on the first few signs of darkness and wonder_ what if _, what would have happened if she had just_ said _something?_ )

But, as most things did, there was a breaking point and that breaking point was when the bottle-green-haired woman came home to find Armelle holding a bloodied knife and their young daughter bleeding out on the tiles. At the point, it was clear that Armelle wasn't herself, too consumed with blackness to see what she had done. Kaleetha, tiny and fragile, was growing paler by the second, blood seeping quickly through the little fingers crossed over the wound in her stomach but she didn't dare move or call for her mother. Armelle was unstable, dangerous and Kaleetha had never been more terrified of— _or for_ —her than in the moment she was bleeding to death in their kitchen.

" _Armelle_ …" Trinigan breathed, horror in her eyes. Her instincts screamed to kill the Angel who had clearly lost her mind but her heart clenched at the very thought of harming her beloved. _But Kaleetha_. The dark-eyed woman turned her attention to Kaleetha, voice shaking, "Kal, just hold on."

Even at eleven, Kaleetha was tempted to make a sarcastic comment that Trinigan _definitely_ wouldn't appreciate in the moment. Armelle didn't seem entirely conscious, swaying on the spot and humming a haunting melody but it was clear by the way her fist tightened around the blade that she knew someone else had entered the home. She was ready for a fight, Trinigan could see that, and there wasn't enough of _Armelle_ in her to recognize that she could potentially kill the love of her life.

Easing forward, Trinigan spoke to Armelle as if she was a bantha and she didn't want to startle her into running. _Or harming_. " _Armelle_ …put down the knife. Come now, lovely, I know you didn't mean to hurt Kal."

"I did mean to," Armelle argued, voice dazed as she stared down at her bleeding daughter. "She's going to hurt _us_ , Trini. She's a _killer_."

Trinigan stiffened. She supposed she should have realized something was wrong when Armelle stopped regarding Kaleetha as if she was the sun; it wasn't until the mint-haired woman began to sleep less that she began to treat Kaleetha as if she was a bomb about to explode, siding with the other people to believe the emerald-haired child to be a threat. Yes, Trinigan knew Kaleetha had the potential to be _dangerous_ , she had trained Kal herself, but the little girl cried when she found the pests around the home dead. ( _Trinigan couldn't count the amount of times she had caught her daughter performing a funeral for a stray beetle that had been hiding in the cupboards and eating their bread_.) A danger, perhaps, but not— _never_ —a killer.

"This isn't you," Trinigan soothed, a sob rising in her throat that she shoved down, "you're just tired, Armelle. Let's get you to bed and we can talk about this in the morning, after you've rested."

Armelle shook her head, a sharp jerking motion as she hovered over the prone form of her daughter. " _No_. She's not dead yet, Trini. She _needs_ to be dead." Something seemed to snap in Armelle's psyche as she let out a deranged giggle, " _Darth Mortis, Darth Mortis_ —all hail the Queen of the Empire." Armelle began to rock, eyes wild as she leant down to press the blade to Kaleetha's throat. Kaleetha didn't move a muscle. " _One to end the fight between the Dark and Light; one blind to himself and the other with sight; the strength of a husband, the sacrifice of a wife; two children to bring balance, a life for a life—_ "

Trinigan let out a devastated scream—something that sounded similar to glass shattering into a million shards—as Armelle slid the blade across Kaleetha's throat, a thin line that immediately began to weep vermillion. She laughed in pure joy, chanting that they were finally _free_ of the darkness as Kaleetha let out a sharp gasp of pain and surprise before she began to choke on her own blood. And Trinigan reacted instinctively. Armelle didn't feel a thing as the sharp edge of Trinigan's sword cleaved her head off her shoulders, didn't know a thing as the mint-haired _thing_ tumbled across the ground and her body slumped against the tiles. Disregarding her headless wife, Trinigan gathered her dying daughter to her chest, trying to stem the flow of blood that seemed like an endless river that joined the growing ocean they were both sitting in. She knew the likelihood of Kaleetha surviving, even as she called brokenly for _someone, anyone to help her!_

Dark eyes wide in terror; a wet, bloody gurgle; the sound of Trinigan's vow breaking the sound of her sobs. "Never again. I'm never leaving you ever again." Another sob tore itself free from her throat as her eyes skipped from Armelle's body to Kaleetha's dying form—she looked so _small_ , so _weak_. Too much, _too much_ and Trinigan felt something in _herself_ shatter. "Just _live_ for me. _Please_. Please _—Kaleetha_!"

And as she cradled her dying daughter to her chest, the Angels' words of sympathy swam in her head. _My condolences. Her passing was a great loss for the galaxy._

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 **UNEDITED**

 **Let me know what you think, please! Sorry for screwing all you wonderful readers around by rewriting this story.**

 **~ Raven**


	3. TWO

**TWO | INSTINCTS OF A SEER**

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 **DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything you recognise.**

 **VERY. AU. CHAPTER. POSTED. WHEN. I. SHOULD. BE. STUDYING!**

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INITIALLY, THE PATH of destruction for Anakin Skywalker was paved by the death of his mother. He had been an arrogant Padawan, placed on a pedestal by the Jedi Council that spoke volumes of their faith in him to bring peace to the galaxy, whose rage at his mother's death drove him to obsession to overcome death. His path to greatness had become blackened as he fell to negative emotions and as he thought himself strong enough to overcome Death. But before that, he had been a slave boy raised by a single mother who simply wanted the best for her miracle child. Shmi Skywalker bent over backwards for her son but Shmi Skywalker Lars was finally allowed to prioritize herself. In no way did Shmi regret Anakin, never in a million years, but her happiness had hinged on his for years, her sacrifice of herself and her happiness only growing as Anakin grew older and more reckless. Although he was a child raised to not feel, he had been a child _born_ to feel and the death of his mother had crumbled his fragile defense against his own emotions. The first seed of Darth Vader was planted from a young man's desire to stop those he loved from dying as he cradled his dead mother to his chest, tears still streaming down his face as he slaughtered a village.

But it just so happened that there was a force stronger than _the_ Force still meddling with the Chosen One's future.

It was such meddling that left Shmi unable to deny that Kal—orphan, nomad, _wonderful_ —was an odd woman. Four years previous, Shmi Skywalker Lars had been selling mushrooms in Mos Espa and everything had seemed normal, as normal as it could with her former owner, Watto, circling her. A small, tan hand had snatched Watto out of the air with startling strength and Shmi, with wide eyes, had watched a young girl, only seventeen cycles, berate him with such intensity that Watto had promptly flown away. When Shmi had thanked her, she offered the young woman a place to rest and the Lars moisture farm had been home ever since, although it was not without a fair share of complications. But complications were often sorted out easily and strange occurrences were overlooked. Shmi had seen more than once the extent of Kal's _oddness_ —a serial offender in terms of being a complete oddity, Kal had unwittingly wheedled her way into the very heart of the Lars family—and it had become as welcome as Anakin's odd tendencies as a child. It had begun with the _spectacularly_ odd occurrence of Kal introducing herself as _Kaleetha_ but then proceeding to tell Shmi that she hated the name and that _Kal_ was far more acceptable. Kaleetha didn't exist anymore; Kal stood in her place, a little more weathered and a whole lot less forgiving. And Shmi had always wanted a daughter, especially after the birth of her son through an immaculate conception, so she had taken Kal under her wing with the care of a mother and had never asked for Kal to answer any questions she wasn't comfortable with. Perhaps, she should have. Cliegg Lars, however, was the quite the opposite; he didn't trust Kal, despite displaying her care for the family every day, and he made an active effort to segregate her from the family. Owen Lars adored Kal, treating her like the younger sister he'd never had, much to his father's chagrin, and Owen's girlfriend, Beru, loved Kal just as much.

It wasn't that Kal was a horrible person, Cliegg didn't believe that, but he didn't trust the amount of coincidences that revolved around the woman's arrival on Tatooine.

Her arrival on the desert planet had preceded the arrival of a slave ship carrying half a dozen prisoners hardly a week after Kal was welcomed on the Lars moisture farm. One of the slaves was a girl no older than eleven cycles with wide eyes and hair so pale a shade of green that it appeared almost white. She hadn't spoken a word but, within hours, Kal had been carrying the malnourished child into the Lars' home without an explanation of how she had managed to afford a slave, especially after Shmi had found her without any money on her person. The slave driver had been found not long after, curled up and whimpering; the medical droids determined that he had experienced a mental break and, in uncharacteristic sympathy, had released every slave he had brought with him. And, if that hadn't been coincidence enough, Kal refused to leave Shmi's side when the older woman grieved on her son's birthday; Cliegg found it unsettling how calm Shmi was, simply quietly introspective, when Kal was around and how she seemed to burst at the seams with sorrow whenever Kal wasn't close. ( _He had initially wondered if_ Kal _was doing something until the thought was seemingly banished from his mind, replaced by the notion that it was simply because Kal was like a daughter to Shmi_.) It was also an odd coincidence that Owen discovered when he had gone to Mos Espa with the intention of finding a ring for Beru—he had found Kal standing outside of the only jeweler on Tatooine, sizing a ring on her slim fingers. _The stone is the same color as your beloved's eyes_ , Kal had said and, without another word, had dropped the ring in his palm and walked away.

Owen thought about the pale-blue ring tucked away under his bed as he watched Kal diligently pack a bag as Tatooine's suns began to dip below the horizon. Nights didn't last long on a planet with two suns by they were considerably cooler. "Must you go? I'm still not comfortable with you going without someone with you." Kal waved him off and Owen huffed, "Are you _sure_ Lyn's too sick?"

Kal repressed the urge to roll her eyes. The slave girl—Weylyn or _Lyn_ —had proven with her four cycle stay that she was well-versed in the art of healing. It had quickly became apparent to the Lars family that Weylyn was similar in oddness to Kal, seeming to know the emotions of everyone around her as well and they often noticed that Weylyn looked to Kal like a student looking to their teacher. Weylyn was a timid thing, however, and spent most of her time at Kal's side and the only reason why they both weren't making the trip to Mos Espa was because of a headache keeping Weylyn confined to bed. Readjusting the wrap covering her oddly-emerald hair and the neckerchief tied snugly around her throat, something that she tugged at often when she was feeling particularly uncomfortable in a situation, the young woman turned her attention on the younger Lars man. He was trying to keep the worry off his face at the prospect of Kal going alone; it was a dangerous time to be alone of Tatooine, no matter what age or gender, with the Tusken Raiders growing braver by the day and the slavers growing more desperate. Travelling at night, as Kal was going to be, wasn't the safest but it was the only alternative to going when it was at it's hottest; the night lasted very few hours as it was and Kal was going to use it to her advantage, planning to arrive in Mos Espa at night, secure a room and then complete all the errands she needed during the day until she returned to the Lars' moisture farm during the next night.

"I'm sure." Kal assured him gently, "I'll be safe but you need to make sure that everyone here is. Your father needs to make sure Beru has an escort if she goes to visit her family, that she stays here at night and that Shmi and Weylyn aren't ever alone."

There was no point in telling Owen to do it as he wasn't going to be on the farm a far distance away while Kal was gone but she wasn't sure that she could trust Cliegg to be present enough. He loved his family, there was no doubt about that, but he was a man often distracted, finding himself slipping off into his own world for hours before he realized he needed to do or say something specific. After the death of Cliegg's brother, Edern, when the boy had just been fourteen, and the death of his first wife and Owen's mother, Aika, the man hadn't been the same; he held a great deal of anger within himself and though protective by nature, Cliegg closed himself off to save himself more pain. Marrying Shmi had been surprising enough for him but essentially welcoming three daughters into the home was something that he was taking a while to get his head around. Kal turned her head at the sound of feet clomping against the floor, eyes meeting Cliegg's and she nodded at him in greeting.

Cliegg grunted before disappearing into the kitchen for a glass of Beru's blue milk before he headed to bed. Owen and Kal shared a look that screamed volumes of exasperation before Kal pressed a kiss to Owen's cheek as she brushed past him to Weylyn's room.

Weylyn was propped up in her bed, tucked into the opposite corner of the room she shared with Kal. Pale and easily burnt under the powerful rays of the Tatooine suns, Weylyn was near-slathered in an ointment she had concocted to keep her skin from peeling and she looked petulant in the stifling room. Shmi had put the young girl on bed rest, informing her that if she saw her even a _toe_ out of her room that she would likely never hear the end of it; Weylyn had complained, repeatedly, that she only had a headache and that there was no reason to fuss. But Kal had put her two cents in, whispering in Shmi's ear about the possible repercussions of letting her wander while she was so quite clearly sick. _Fifteen and being treated like a child_ , Weylyn had grumbled and tossed her silvery hair over her shoulder and promptly rolled over, showing her back to Kal as the older woman burst into laughter.

"Lyn?" Kal called, rapping the back of her fingers against the door. She received a non-committed grunt in response, which she took as a _come in_ , and she nudged the door open. Weylyn looked like a right mess, her green-tinged hair piled up on the top of her head like a convor had taken root in it. Kal made an alarmed noise low in her throat as one pale eye snapped open to stare at her. "Are you…are you feeling okay?"

"I assume I don't _look_ okay," the younger girl grouched, shockingly vain for a girl who lived in a home without a mirror.

Kal tilted her head, considered sugar-coating her statement, before she nodded, "You look terrible." Weylyn let out a wail into her pillow, startling Kal. The emerald-haired woman took a cautious step back before she huffed, throwing up her hands. "Dear Force, Weylyn! You're an Angel of Iego and my apprentice, start acting like one." She let out a sigh, balancing herself on the edge of the girl's bed, "You're strong and you're smart but I warned you that training would open your mind and that your headaches would become more frequent as you become more aware of the visions." Weylyn grumbled. "Get up."

The grumbling became more pronounced and she questioned, still muffled in the pillow, "Why?"

"I'm leaving now and I'd like you to try to connect with the Force."

There was a great deal more grumbling as the small-boned girl slid out of her bed like a worm. How that didn't injure her neck, Kal didn't know, but she waited patiently for Weylyn to struggle into a cross-legged position on the floor. She huffed. "I'm up."

Kal quirked a brow, "I can see that."

She sat down across from her apprentice, legs crossed and eyes slipping shut serenely. The older Angel had learnt how to block the visions a long time ago, practically cutting herself off from her own genetics, and her talent into stepping into other Angels' visions had been taught to her by Trinigan. Easily, Kal slipped into Weylyn's mind, watching as the pale-haired girl tried to connect with her birthright. Born to an Angel and an unknown father, Weylyn hadn't been aware of her powers until she had heard Kal's presence in her head when the emerald-haired woman had passed the slave vessel. Weylyn's head twinged in pain, her eyes crinkling at the corners and Kal withdrew from her apprentice's mind at the ocean of white noise Weylyn had tapped into. The young girl threw hands up, eyes snapping open just as the white noise began to clear and took the form of two women wrapped in a passionate embrace.

If she had waited a moment longer, Weylyn would have witnessed the marriage of Senator Padmé Amidala and the Supreme of Iego, Nesrin, in the not-so-distant future.

"I can't do this!" The girl snarled, anger flashing in her eyes as Kal watched her silently.

Though the teacher, she didn't offer any words of encouragement or agreement that, _no_ , Weylyn _couldn't_ reach the Force. Instead, Kal sat still and seemed to stare at something over Weylyn's shoulder that no one else could see. They would try again when she came home, whether Weylyn particularly wanted to or not. Weylyn gave another huff of frustration. Without another word, she retreated back to her nest of blankets, a clear sign that she was giving up. It was a shame Weylyn hadn't inherited the stubbornness of an Angel and, sighing delicately, Kal hitched her bag onto her shoulder. She pulled the door to the room closed after her, lips pursed as she made her way through the twists and turns of the labyrinth-like moisture farm. The farm had been built entirely underground for the sole purpose of staying as cool as possible on the hot planet but everyone was constantly in motion, generating their own warmth. Even See-Threepio never stopped moving, following after Shmi with jaunty movements when the woman wandered over to Kal from the living quarters with her usual grace. Kal bid See-Threepio goodbye, which he returned eagerly, as he walked past her to begin his tasks outside. She glided across the ground towards Kal to draw her into a loving hug before she pulled back to press her palms to the younger woman's cheeks. The emerald-haired woman welcomed the action, smiling delicately at the woman who had become like a mother to her.

"Weylyn stirring up trouble?"

The younger woman pinched the bridge of her nose, "Stirring up trouble would be a welcome alternative to doing nothing at all." Kal rubbed above her eye where a headache was beginning to form, "Must teenagers be so difficult?"

" _Yes_ ," Shmi confirmed with a laugh. It was always entertaining for her to watch Kal attempt to navigate Weylyn's wealth of conflicting emotions and insecure choices; she was certainly no prodigy with children of any species but she always made the effort, usually resulting in a rather welcome outcome. "Now, I know you've heard this speech a million times, from both Owen and myself, but you must—"

"— _be safe_ ," Kal finished before Shmi could get the words out. "And I mean you, Shmi, be safe. _Please_ don't go out on your own—no _mushroom_ is worth your life, Shmi. I want to come home to find you in one piece, smiling at all of us." Her thin fingers tightened around Shmi's hands, "You say it to me because you love me. I'm saying it to you for the same reason and I want you safe."

The older woman squeezed Kal's hand in return, smiling at her reassuringly. "Nothing's going to happen to me. I'll see you soon."

The heavy weight in Kal's stomach made the young woman pause, emerald-green brows pulled together. It was clear that something was bothering her but Shmi was insistent, almost shoving Kal through the door into the night. Besides, Weylyn and Cliegg would be at home, they could keep an eye on the hard-headed Shmi, couldn't they? Perhaps, Kal should have trusted her instincts and not left the Jundland Wastes that night, staying behind to protect Shmi when she woke up early the next morning to pick mushrooms. Perhaps if she hadn't left that night for Mos Espa, Kal wouldn't have found herself in the position she was currently in, chained up beside a severely hurt and malnourished Shmi Skywalker Lars.

Perhaps, Kaleetha, one of the last Angels of Iego, should have listened to her instincts.

 **XXXXX**

* * *

 **UNEDITED**

 **Warning: Slow. Burn. As. Hell.**

 **At the beginning, Kal is going to hate Anakin and it's going to lead to some problems when they work together but will, eventually, lead to both Anakin and Kal becoming better people after they realise that nit-picking at each other's flaws isn't going to be useful in the long run. Just strap in and enjoy the ride, folks, because I sure as Hell will. Ominous, I know...**

 **I'm in a bit of a _Hamartia_ kick at the moment and have, pretty much, chronic writer's block for all my other stories. So sorry! But I'm hoping that I won't get slack with (at least!) Part One of _Hamartia_ and have it done before the end of the year. But no promises! Let me know what you think of this chapter, thanks!**

 **~ Raven**


End file.
